Welcome, delightful morn, Thou day of sacred rest; I hail thy kind return— Lord, make these moments blest; From the low train of mortal toys, I soar to reach immortal joys. 2 Now may the King descend And fill his throne with grace; The scepter, Lord, extend, While saints address thy face: Let sinners feel thy quickening word, And learn to know and fear the Lord. 633 7s & 6s. The first day of the week. O day of rest and gladness, O day of joy and light, O balm of care and sadness, Most beautiful, most bright, On thee, the high and lowly, Bending before the throne, Sing holy, holy, holy, To God the holy One. 2 On thee, at the creation, The light first had its birth; On thee for our salvation Christ rose from depths of earth; On thee our Lord victorious, The Spirit sent from heaven, And thus on thee most glorious, A triple light was given. 3 Thou art a port protected From storms that round us rise; A garden intersected With streams of Paradise; Thou art a cooling fountain In life’s dry, dreary sand; From thee, like Pisgah’s mountain, We view our promised land. GRATITUDE AND PRAISE. 634 L. M. Loving kindness. Awake, my soul, to joyful lays, And sing the great Redeemer’s praise; He justly claims a song from me, His loving kindness, O how free! 2 He saw me ruined in the fall, Yet loved me, notwithstanding all; He saved me from my lost estate, His loving kindness, O how great. 3 Though numerous hosts of mighty foes, Though earth and hell, my way oppose, He safely leads my soul along, His loving kindness, O how strong! 4 When trouble, like a gloomy cloud, Has gathered thick and thundered loud, He near my soul has always stood, His loving kindness, O how good! 5 Soon shall I pass the gloomy vale, Soon all my mortal powers must fail; O may my last expiring breath His loving kindness sing in death! 6 Then let me mount and soar away To the bright world of endless day, And sing with rapture and surprise, His loving kindness in the skies! 635 L. M. I will praise thee for ever. Psalm 52:9. My God, my King, thy various praise Shall fill the remnant of my days; Thy grace employ my humble tongue, Till death and glory raise the song. 2 The wings of every hour shall bear Some thankful tribute to thine ear, And every setting sun shall see New works of duty, done for thee. 3 Let distant times and nations raise The long succession of thy praise; And unborn ages make my song The joy and labor of my tongue.